


goodness is no name, and happiness no dream

by tigriswolf



Series: comment_fic drabbles [92]
Category: Inception (2010), White Collar
Genre: Alternate Backstory, Child Abuse, Families of Choice, Gen, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Secret Identity, Stealth Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 11:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noah is not the name he was given at birth. He has no idea what it was. His brother wasn’t born <i>Arthur</i> either. Neal is one of his favorite names; back when he was Noah, oceans of blood ago, Arthur went by <i>Aiden</i>. </p><p>And, no. No records connect them at all. Keep looking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	goodness is no name, and happiness no dream

**Author's Note:**

> Title: goodness is no name, and happiness no dream  
> Fandom: White Collar/Inception(/Rock n Rolla)  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Byron  
> Warnings: mentions of bad things happening to children; some violence; AU for Neal’s backstory; possibly a threesome  
> Pairings: Arthur/Eames (+ Neal)  
> Rating: PG13  
> Point of view: third  
> Wordcount: 850  
> Prompt: any, any, Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one.

Neal Caffrey can blend in anywhere. He can pull on accents like they're hats, he can laugh with strangers, he can insert himself into a party and it's like he's never been gone. 

Back when he was a thief, he had contacts, friends, allies. Moz, and Kate, Alex - and even Vincent. 

Now that he catches thieves, he has Peter and El, June, Diana and Jones and even Hughes. Various and sundry FBI agents who like him as a person, even if they hate what he used to do.

(Oh, he’s not kidding anyone. He’s still a thief. He’ll always be a thief. He’s not ashamed, and he’s not sorry, no matter how much it will hurt Peter.

And it will. It’ll hurt Peter _so much_.) 

Neal is undercover for the FBI as an arms’ dealer, and Peter wishes he wasn’t because this isn’t Peter’s operation, this isn’t at all white collar – these people are into extortion and human trafficking and killing. And Neal is wearing his Noah Lasik ID, even though the FBI gave him a different name and background, and it’s different than that assassin he wore, with Sara. 

Noah Lasik is someone Peter has never met. The FBI has never seen. He’s dark and cruel; he’s dangerous and electrifying. He’s killed eighteen people in five countries. Neal slides into Noah like he never left, and he meets Peter’s eyes with a smirk.

It all goes swimmingly until Noah’s introduced to Daniel Robertson, and Robertson gets too close, and Robertson stays in his space, and Noah’s new boss really takes offense to that (Noah isn’t sure if he’s jealous of them, or which one he’d be jealous of), but either way, it results in a shoot-out and when the smoke clears, Robertson is still at his back and everyone else is dead. 

Noah mutters, “Shit.” 

His brother’s boyfriend (lover? partner? – whatever) _Eames_ laughs. 

(Noah is not the name he was given at birth. He has no idea what it was. His brother wasn’t born _Arthur_ either. Neal is one of his favorite names; back when he was Noah, oceans of blood ago, Arthur went by _Aiden_. 

And, no. No records connect them at all. Keep looking.)

There is no going back, not after so many men died. Neal can’t brush it under the carpet and bluff his way out. Peter can’t ignore it. 

The smoke clears, and Noah Lasik and Daniel Robertson are gone. Gone like they’d never been, except for the bodies littering the ground and a single line of text on a scrap of paper – _Goodbye, Peter. Give June and El a kiss from me_.

Peter uses everything at his disposal, but when he gets back to New York, Moz is gone, too. 

If they ever catch Neal again, he’ll be locked away for a long time.

They’ll never catch Neal unless he lets them.

(Ned Lafferty saunters into his brother’s apartment in Bordeaux, and his brother’s Eames follows with a stolen bottle of wine in hand.

“Looking good, kid,” Ned says, giving him a quick, strong hug. 

“You, too,” Arthur says, pulling back to look him over and make sure.)

Neal Caffrey never surfaces. Peter tries to forget him, and El and June have weekly lunches, and life moves on. 

It isn’t until the white collar unit widens to include dreamtheft that Peter even catches a glimpse of Neal – going by Nate Wesson, and teamed up with some of the best in the business. 

Nate Wesson isn’t someone Peter knows, doesn’t even seem to be someone Peter would like. He’s more similar to Noah Lasik than Neal Caffrey. 

But Peter can dream. 

(Noah and Aiden, they had been something else. Two kids who found each other on the streets, scared and scarred, bloodied and bruised. 

Noah, with his pretty face; Aiden, with his clever hands. They shouldn’t have survived. Sure as hell shouldn’t have thrived.

But they grew up, and they grew strong, and nothing is beyond them now.)

Neal Caffrey didn’t really have friends. He had acquaintances, and marks, and people indebted to him. He had a keeper. He had _masters_ , and Neal Caffrey really hated to be owned. 

He hated being bound and shackled and caged. He was always leaving New York. 

Peter can say whatever he wants, but he and Neal were never friends. And while he might suspect it, and forbid himself from crying about it. El in his arms and his face buried in her neck, Peter will never admit to anyone that he wonders. 

(When they’re alone, just the three of them, Nate and Arthur and Eames call each other names no one else knows – Noah, and Aiden, and Bobby. 

None of them have friends, really. Friends come and go. So does family. 

What they have is scars and blood and dreams, nightmares and so many dead. 

What they have is forever, and nobody will ever take it away. 

They sleep in each other’s’ arms, the three of them so close it’s like they’re one person, and tomorrow, Peter Burke will go through another file and wish he’d held on tighter.)


End file.
